


Road Dogs

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [26]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: It took everything Peter had in him to not reveal that he was already thinking about it. Not to FYI. He didn’t want to be on the same show as Murphy again. But until just a few months ago, putting down roots was suffocating. Now, all he could think about was the smell of Obsession and her high thread count sheets and being woken up by a giggling almost-four-year-old.





	Road Dogs

**Title:** Road Dogs  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Series:** Come Rain, Come Shine  
**Pairing:** Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt  
**Rating:** Adult for Smut  
**Timeframe:** Sometime between seasons 6 and 7  
**A/N:** One should never punch someone else, especially not if their girlfriend could actually do it better.  
**Disclaimer:** You know the drill: Diane English owns this, as do Warner Bros. TPTB do their best to make me cry and make me scream and here’s the truth - I love their canon (almost) as much as I love my fanon.

 **Summary:** _It took everything Peter had in him to not reveal that he was already thinking about it. Not to FYI. He didn’t want to be on the same show as Murphy again. But until just a few months ago, putting down roots was suffocating. Now, all he could think about was the smell of Obsession and her high thread count sheets and being woken up by a giggling almost-four-year-old._

Peter dropped his bag onto the cot in the ratty roadside motel room he was sharing with his crew and took a breath. It had been a day. Between leaving Murphy and Avery, his plane being delayed, having one of his flights cancelled, and almost losing his passport, he was done. And now, as he settled into this new assignment, the reality that he was staring down the barrel of six weeks away from her was settling in. Six long, frustrating weeks. As it was, he’d planned to be away for three months, but there was going to be a break in there somewhere and he was already envisioning bribing Eldin to take Avery away for part of weekend he got to go home just so he could spend the better part of a day buried inside of his girlfriend.

God, this was going to be harder than he expected.

Letting out a breath, Peter forced himself to focus. Dinner with the crew was always a good place to start on the story and he had stuff to do and contacts to make. But, he was hungry and the pub was always the first place to start when it came to checking out the situation.

In the tiny pub down the road, he joined the throng of journalists and crew guys. A few new faces, but most had been down the same dusty roads he had far too many times. Taking a seat on a stool by the bar, Peter ordered a beer and some soup and had to force himself to get comfortable. This was ridiculous. He’d dated women he’d had to leave behind before. But this just felt so different. He hadn’t missed them like he already missed Murphy and Avery. God. He was hopeless.

“Hey,” he asked the barkeep as his food was delivered, “you got a phone here that calls international?”

“Got a calling card?” The man responded.

“Yeah.”

“Then we got a phone that makes international.”

Peter let out a breath. “Can I …”

The man laughed and handed over the rotary beast. “Got a girl back home, American?”

“Yeah.” He paused, and a smile crossed his face, enjoying the moment and the conversation. “Little boy, too.” The second sentence escaped his mouth before he realized what he was saying, but in the few months he’d been with Murphy, Avery was already a part of his thought process.

“Yeah? Mine’s four.”

“Mine too. Almost.” Peter said, hoping Murphy wouldn’t kill him if she learned about this. But he was as attached to Avery as the kiddo seemed to be to him. Peter pulled the calling card out of his pocket and punched in the numbers. Static raced across the line and suddenly, he realized he hadn’t put together exactly what time it was in DC. He got the machine.

“Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know I got here. I’ll call when I can. Hug Avery for me.” He sighed. “I miss you already.” He hung up before he wasted any more time on the card. “Thanks,” he said, handing the phone back over.

“Any time.” The barkeep smiled and walked over to help someone else.

“Look who is back among the living!” Jeff Taylor was one of the more annoying of the road dogs. A confirmed bachelor at only 32, he lived for the tank shot, the scud moment. He wanted to be the hero, make it all about himself, and fuck as many women as he could while doing it. Peter only hoped he hadn’t been that annoying once. He probably had been. “Peter Hunt! Welcome back to the road, man. What, FYI too pretty for you?”

The gathered laughed.

“Been back out on the road for a while there,” Peter said with a smile. “Left FYI …after the Humboldts.”

“Yeah, all that time getting shot in Serbia. They sent you home and everything. What, the field docs weren’t good enough for the network’s rising star?”

Logic said to walk away. He could laugh it off and move on. But frankly, Jeff annoyed the crap out of him. So he rose to the occasion. “Better me than you, Taylor.”

The collective ooooo from the group almost made him laugh. The barkeep was smirking.

“Gotta love how when we’re between assignments, the network keeps us here. Hunt is between assignments and they bring him home to DC. Didn’t you just get back from DC?”

“I’ve got a better contract than you do, Taylor.”

Silence. And then Jeff laughed and returned to his beer. Peter rolled his eyes, glad the moment was over. He’d eat and get a letter to Murphy and Avery written and then catch some sleep. “Hey,” he said, catching the attention of the bartender. “If I leave letters with you, will you make sure they get out?”

“Anything for you, American,” the man grinned. “Every morning by nine.”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled. He ordered another beer and settled back at the bar. The TV was showing a feed of American news shows and Peter kept half an eye on the screen, hoping to catch FYI.

Jeff wandered over, smelling like a badly tapped keg, and ordered another for himself. “No hard feelings, man.”

“Nah,” Peter smirked. “I’ve got my job security.”

Jeff glared at him. Peter didn’t care.

“So what’s it like working with those suits?”

“Who? Oh, you mean the FYI crew?”

“Yeah. Are they what happens when we get old?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Well,” he let out a breath and took another sip of his beer. “Yes. I mean, Jim was one of the toughest field reporters in his day. Murphy cut her teeth in Vietnam. Frank’s been shot on camera. And you know what, Corky’s pretty cool. She doesn’t duck bullets, but she’s a great person. I was lucky to work with them as long as I did.”

Jeff snorted. “You love em so much, go back.”

It took everything Peter had in him to not reveal that he was already thinking about it. Not to FYI. He didn’t want to be on the same show as Murphy again. But until just a few months ago, putting down roots was suffocating. Now, all he could think about was the smell of Obsession and her high thread count sheets and being woken up by a giggling almost-four-year-old. God. “Might do you some good to sit behind a desk for a while,” Peter said instead “See how the anchors get it done. It’s a whole different world.” He flexed his arm. “You get shot at less, anyway.” Less. After all, Frank had taken that .45 on the same night Peter had risked being shot and kissed Murphy for the first time.

“What’s Brown like? I mean really?”Jeff leaned in close. “Woman comes across as a total ice queen, but rumor has it she’s all fire. Dances with Kennedys while screwing bikers, that kind of thing.”

Peter almost choked on his beer. Had he been like this last year? God forgive him if he had been. Bless him Murphy, for he had sinned. No. He’d always been more focused on the job, not the gossip. At least, he hoped anyway.

“She’s a professional,” Peter challenged. “Works harder than just about any of us and can still do an interview on the fly if she needs to. She never stops. In fact, I would pit her rolodex against any of ours if she stepped foot in this bar tonight and needed an interview.” He hated admitting it, but she was a better reporter. Not by much, but still. Also, she did have seven years on him to work her contacts.

“Yeah, but is she as hot as she looks on camera?” Jeff snickered. “I mean, we all know Sherwood is a dream, but we’ve seen her in her sash and tiara. What about Brown?”

“You want to know if Murphy wears a sash and bikini to work?” Peter snorted back the laughter. “God, go sober up, Jeff.”

But Jeff wasn’t leaving and he was a good enough reporter that Peter knew if he didn’t get out of the situation fast, everyone was going to know exactly what was going on back in Washington. While he wouldn’t mind holding it over people, the last thing he wanted in anyone’s mind was what Murphy might look like when she was gasping his name. That was for his imagination alone and he fully intended to go there as soon as he had some alone time.

“You know,” Jeff said, his voice raising, “rumor has it that Brown’s got herself someone to scratch that itch.”

“How do you know this, Jeff? You just said rumor was she was an ice queen. So one minute she’s ice and the next she’s hot as fire? What is it?”

“Come on, you worked with her. Tell me, do those legs go all the way up?” Jeff was crossing the line from boozed to drunk.

Peter took a deep breath. “To her hips, I am sure. That’s how legs work.” He was going to take Jeff outside and kick him right into a pile of cow dung.

“Yeah?” Jeff snickered and the look on his face told Peter he was not only screwed but that Jeff had known about this for a while and was waiting for the chance to land the blow. “You know, rumor has it you’ve got a girlfriend, Peter. Some hot little blonde thing? Oh no. That was just you and Sherwood at the Humboldts. Tell me,” his voice was the only one being heard in the bar now. “Did you do both FYI ladies at the same time or just move your way through the blonde horde?”

That did it. Peter clenched his fist to lay Jeff out, but the man was suddenly on the floor, with Ted Johnson, one of the older reporters in the room standing over him. In unison, the entire bar held its breath. “Shut up, Taylor. You can make jokes about your girlfriend all you want, if you had one, you slime. But you don’t go after the women who won’t give you the time of day. Murphy Brown wrote the book on how you do your job. Shut your trap.”

Peter let out the breath he was holding. Jeff crawled back to his feet, grumbling and brushing off his shirt. Peter waited until things had settled before reaching out and grabbing Jeff and pulling him within inches. “And the next time you think about making public comments about my girlfriend,” he hissed at the other reporter, “I’ll make you wish it was Johnson over there punching you. You hear me?” Jeff started to snicker, but Peter tightened his grip on the shirt and put his face directly in Jeff’s. “Murphy Brown is twice the person you or I could dream of being and I swear to god, asshole, if you keep at this, I’m taking you down. You got me?”

He threw Jeff back against the bar and, before the man could catch his bearings, leveled him with a solid right hook to his stomach. Jeff choked and went down again, grabbing for the bar stool. Peter tossed money on the bar, nodded an apology to the barkeep, and stormed out.

Murphy would kill him when she found out about this. He didn’t care. Well, he’d care when she broke up with him, but right now, he was just annoyed.

Babe, he argued in his mind, I know you can take care of yourself but you weren’t there! I had to punch the guy for you.

Yeah, he was dead meat.

***

Before Avery, Saturdays had been for puttering around the house, loading (or unloading) the dishwasher, tossing out the takeout containers, and immersing herself in research. Now, Saturdays were for climbing trees at the park and going to the zoo and, during naptime, immersing herself in research. She was so behind on this story.

Today though, Saturday was for catching up with an old friend while Ted wrestled an excited Avery. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been seven months pregnant and grounded because of the preterm labor symptoms. He’d spent the whole day chuckling at how frustrated she was and also suggesting that his name was the only appropriate one for the baby.

“How did he get so big?!” Ted shook his head. “The trick, Murphy, is to stop feeding them.”

“You seem to have a growing child mixed up with a plant,” Murphy tossed back, rolling her eyes.

“Still can’t believe you’re a mom.” Ted shook his head. Avery was getting bored with the new person in the room and wandered off to play with his linkin logs. “This girl, fresh out of college, wide eyed and terrified, but the best damn instincts I ever saw. Now you’re a mom and something tells me he doesn’t get away with anything.” Ted paused. “No. Never mind. He’s sneakier than you.”

Murphy smirked - which was her only acknowledgement of Ted being right. “Only makes my instincts better.”

“Oh yeah, I feel bad for this kid once he hits fifteen. Lock up your porsche.” They shared a laugh and Ted leaned forward, a smile on his face that made Murphy worry what was about to come out of his mouth. “You’ve been holding out on me,” Ted teased, changing the subject.

“What do you mean?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Your new man. He’s a cutie.”

Murphy couldn’t stop the blush from hitting her cheeks, nor could she stop the rage. He’d been bragging? Of course he’d been bragging. But now? They’d been together long enough that bragging felt silly. What the hell?

“Slow your roll there, kiddo.” Ted took a sip of his soda.

“What?”

“Your face. Chill. He didn’t give you up. Not really.”

“You have four seconds to explain what you mean before I break up with him.”

Ted took a breath. Murphy listened to him explain the moment in the bar, the taunting, and how he, not Peter, had laid out the dumbass kid. “Well, he got a punch to the stomach in later. But I did the heavy lifting.”

Murphy groaned, trying to hide the pride. Okay, she didn’t need Peter defending her honor, but that he did actually made her sit up a bit. At least he was thinking about her when they were apart. “I didn’t …”

“Girl, you’re dating a hot shot. And, from his ass, I’m betting he is great in the sack?”

“How is Robert?” Murphy shot back.

“Glad I’m home,” Ted teased. “But, seriously, don’t be worried about Hunt strutting around. Your guy is a good one. One of the best reporters I’ve ever seen, honestly and a good man, too. And I’ve seen a few.”

“I just wish …”

“What?”

Murphy looked at her old friend and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Ted, I wish he was willing to be so good closer to home. I miss him when he’s gone. I know, I know.” She shook her head and put her face in her hands. “It goes against everything I know and that everyone knows about me. But this one …”

“Damn!” Ted slapped his thigh. “He is something special. Are we talking real deal territory? Like, wedding present time?”

“Shut up!” She hissed. “And not a word of this to anyone or I’ll skewer you alive on national TV. I have a reputation to maintain."

Ted laughed. "That reputation is what Peter was protecting, for the record."

Avery giggled, which made Ted laugh. Murphy rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s all these years later and road warriors are still talking shit about women like we haven’t been kicking their asses in the field.”

“It’s why they do it,” Ted smirked. “Scared to death of you ladies being smarter than the rest of us.”

Murphy snorted. “Who you callin a lady?”

“Mommy!” Avery grinned, pointing. “Mommy’s a lady!”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Ted said with a wink. “And kid isn’t wrong.”

The phone rang and she went for it, raising an eyebrow at Ted when a very familiar voice came across the line. “Oh, hi Peter …” she said, sauntering into the other room. “No, everything’s fine. How’s your hand?”

She listened to him sputter and it made it all worth it. Okay. He was forgiven.

***

Peter shifted his weight from foot to foot while he waited for Murphy to answer the door. She’d promised she’d be home, the porsche was in the drive, but things were quiet inside. He was about to give up, head home, when the door opened and she leaned in the entryway. “Well, if it isn’t my big, strong man, out to defend my honor.”

“Um …” he cracked a grin. “Honor?”

It was apparently the right response because she poked him in the ribs and dragged him back inside. Peter forgot about everything for a moment while his arms moved around her and they fell backward toward the couch.

She’d had a month to get over his display of bravado in the bar, which was good for him because at the moment, all he cared about was getting her naked. “Should we take this upstairs?” He murmured as his fingers unsnapped her bra and revealed her breasts to him. Desire surged through his body and he pressed his mouth to her nipple, biting lightly.

“If we tiptoe past that room and Avery wakes up, you’re never getting laid again,” Murphy came back, reaching between them to tug on his shirt. He helped her shrug it off before nudging her off his lap and tugging her leggings down those impossible legs.

Ice queen his ass. This woman … she was only fire.

Peter wasted no time pushing her legs apart and pressing his lips to the juncture of her thighs. She groaned and arched back, opening more to him, and for a long moment, the only sound in the house was Murphy’s muttered curses. When Peter nipped down, just lightly, on her clit, she came with a low, gasping groan.

“How’s that for protecting your honor?” Peter teased as he leaned up over her, kissing her stomach, between her breasts, and eventually her nipple. She writhed under him, the aftershocks of her orgasm keeping her moving, and Peter took her hand and guided it to the button on his jeans. She took her hint and freed him, fumbling just slightly, and Peter stood up to kick off the rest of his clothes. Murphy slid onto his lap as he took a seat, positioning herself above him.

“So, how was the gossip?” She returned his taunt. “What secrets did you reveal?”

“Mostly,” he ran his hands down her back, trying in vain to coax her down onto his throbbing cock. “Mostly, I just gave intimate details of how you sound when you call my name.” She pinched his nipple, which only sent another rush through him. “Jesus Christ, Murphy.”

“I don’t think he has anything to do with it,” she taunted.

“Trust me,” Peter groaned, sliding his hand between her thighs and stroking her. She was so wet. “He’d be all over this moment if he had the chance.”

“Not sure I like that,” she came back, but there was laughter in her voice. She was enjoying making him wait.

Peter could feel her body still twitching from his work earlier and she rode his hand as he worked her, gently, knowing from experience that if he pushed too fast right away, she’d push him away in pain. But just the right amount of pressure and she’d be coming again, and again, and it always did his ego good to feel her wrap around him right before she passed out.

But first, he had his own needs and they’d been apart too long.

“Murphy …” Yes. He was reduced to begging.

Her mouth worked his neck while she lowered herself, slowly, onto him. Peter surged up to meet her, gasping, gripping her hips. God. Being away from her for so long was a terrible life choice on his part.

“Defending the little woman,” she teased, riding him oh so slowly. “When here she is, holding you hostage.”

“You’ve been holding me hostage since day one,” he sighed, meeting her eyes.

“Peter?” She leaned in close, her lips at his ear.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Shut up.”

He laughed and pushed up into her again. She rode him deftly, her body moving with his until he gripped her hips so tightly he knew he was leaving bruises and tumbled over the edge. She moved one of his hands to where their bodies were joined and he teased her with fluttering touches until she cried out a second time and collapsed against him.

“Yeah,” she moaned. “I’m holding you hostage. You don’t get to leave ever again.”

They held each other, their bodies cooling, until Murphy pulled back and reached for his discarded shirt to wipe between her thighs. “I’ll be right back,” she said, ducking into the bathroom. By the time she emerged, Peter had cleaned up, grabbed her clothes, and was ready to tiptoe past Avery’s room.

“How long are you home?” She asked, taking the hand he offered.

The look in her eyes matched the nerves in his stomach. “Five days,” he said. “They’re sending me to Peru.”

“Five days …” she sighed. “Well. It’s something we’re getting used to.”

He pulled her up against him and not for the first time wondered if maybe a change in his schedule would be good. But right now, he was going to ravage her until they couldn’t see straight. They’d think about tomorrow, tomorrow.


End file.
